


Still someday we will fly

by virvatulilla



Series: Short stories about wings [6]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Implied/Referenced Suicide, Past Relationship(s), Wings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-30
Updated: 2017-05-30
Packaged: 2018-11-07 00:06:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 635
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11047170
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/virvatulilla/pseuds/virvatulilla
Summary: Realistic setting





	Still someday we will fly

 

We were there but a moment.

 

I do not know how long it has been yet since I was this sad. So sad that I cannot even cry. The world is silent. Time stops at this moment, and I drown. I fade. Everyone around me breathes the syrupy flower smell hanging in the room, and the heavy black curtains do not move in the wind, even though the window is open. The sun peeks behind the edge of a cloud, but there is a melancholy tone in the ripple of conversation. I sit quietly on my chair, a white feather in my clenched fist.

 

It has not been very long, but I still cannot remember what your eyes looked like in the light of my yellow night light when you finally decided your wings were ready. You had been making them for a long time, stitching every feather into the fabric one at a time. Stitch by stitch, the needle sometimes made a blood drop fall on the white fabric but you never tried to wash them off. You knew that when the wings were ready you would fly at any price. I was there every time you put them on your back, became an angel, even for the last time.

 

I am relieved to think that I did not love anymore. The idea of love sounds foreign to me, for it has been so long since I heard your voice. I have slept alone for years. Even though I have only kissed one, for countless times I kissed someone who did not care about me. You lost me into the last sunset of the summer long before I knew where it would lead.

 

I have forgotten a lot. I will still always remember your wings, even though I have lost your face in the midst of my memories. You had been making your wings for years, day by day, feather by feather. Watching what each day brings, trying to see the world as a bright place even once. I remember the days when we hid under the sky full of stars, the deep colours and clean sounds of that world, promises I knew would always stay unfulfilled. They do not matter anymore, I have already forgotten.

 

The most beautiful in the world, the lost star from the sky, the fleeting shooting star you try to chase but can never catch. You slipped through my fingers like you were stardust, the fine sand from which the space princesses are made of. You jumped… spread your wings and flew– It was the only possible ending to the story.

 

I decided then, that the end would truly be the end. But it was not. I guess I never was as serious as you were. I was able to get up and continue my life even after all that. Raindrops are beating the ground as I leave. The world has turned gray.

 

The key still fits into the lock, the door opens. There is nobody waiting inside. No floor full of white feathers. No sunshine. No candles to soften the darkness. There is a mosquito net in the window, and rain seeps in. Light curtains gently stir in the wind. I slide to lie on the floor and close my eyes.

 

White wings float in a pool of blood on a beautiful summer day. Ringing in the ears. Nothing is any more.

 

But at the same time, everything is. The world did not stop that day, and it does not stop now. I lay on the floor for a moment, but then get up and walk away. The rain has passed and the wet asphalt makes the world have a scent like that distant summer day.

 

We were but a moment.

 

And yet I always write about you.


End file.
